


Pillow Talk

by orphan_account



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-01
Updated: 2010-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein we find out Adam didn't always want to be a singer, Tommy has a bad longterm memory, and the word "wippersnapper" is used with plenty of irony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Probably even fluffier than the title makes it sound. Also, kind of filthy.

"You always wanna be a singer?"

Tommy didn't know what made him blurt out the question. He'd never felt the need to fill up awkward silences after sex with any of his girlfriends, and he'd never been a very chatty person. But then, that was probably the Adam-effect; he'd seen at work on other people, too. There was something about Adam that made people _want_ to talk. Maybe because he was a surprisingly good listener--you know, for being such a dramatic son-of-a-bitch. He had a way of making you feel like what you were saying mattered. Tommy'd learned to talk with his music early on; learned it was the best way to express himself. But there wasn't anything difficult or awkward about talking with Adam. It was...nice. Nice to have someone who liked to listen to him as much as they did his music.

Adam sounded perplexed and amused when he said, "What, you haven't heard the two hundred interviews that asked me that exact same question?" but Tommy wasn't ready to open his eyes to see whether his expression matched his tone. The secret to some people's true mood was in their voice, but not Adam. He had perfect control and could sound any way he fancied. No, with him, the secret was all in his eyes, in the way the shade and expression around them shifted subtly with his moods. It was fascinating to watch, usually.

"Nope. Interviews're fuckin' boring, man"

Adam snorted. His head was resting on Tommy's stomach, their bodies intersecting like a sideways T, so he felt it when Adam turned to look at him. "I always tell them yes. It's what they want to hear, you know? That my whole life was just waiting to get here. That I was born to entertain."

"You weren't?"

"Fuck no, I was awkward as hell when I was a kid. I wanted to be a fireman, can you believe it?"

Tommy cracked one eye open; smirked, "Sure. They have those beef-cake calend--"

Adam reared up and covered his mouth with his hand, laughing, "Shut _up_ smartass." He leaned in for a kiss and Tommy gave it to him. It was way too soon for anything else, but kissing wasn't just a lead in to sex with Adam. He genuinely liked to do it. And that enthusiasm made it easy for Tommy to like it too. The stubble-burn was new, and weird, but not necessarily bad-weird. Kind of like Adam was kissing him all day, and goddamn he was _not _going there, fuck. '_Get a grip, Tommy Joe.'_

"What about you?" Adam asked when he'd flopped back into his previous position.

"What?"

"I don't know, what did _you_ want to be when you were a kid,"

"A rock star," Tommy grinned.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. One of my mom's boyfriends taught me how to play guitar when I was, like, eight."

"You didn't want to be anything before that?"

Tommy shrugged, "Don't remember," His hand was playing with Adam's hair; he paused, wondering if he should stop, but before he could decide Adam rolled over, and buried his face in Tommy's abdomen. He mumbled something, but it was muffled. "What?" Adam didn't answer, but he blew a raspberry into Tommy's gut, "Fuck! Stop, that tickles!" Tommy squirmed, giggling helplessly, and tried ineffectually to push his tormentor away. Adam clung, limpet-like, and all Tommy succeeded in doing was giving him better leverage. 

He stopped, finally, but Tommy didn't trust it. "Okay, okay! Would you chill already? I'm done, I swear," Adam laughed.

Tommy subsided, but he was on the alert. His ticklishness was a closely guarded secret. He had somewhat of a rep as 'the stoic one,' and bursting into uncontrollable laughter when someone touched his belly just the right way would kind of invalidate that. He didn't know why he'd let Adam lay there anyway.

"You're a fucking dick," Tommy said through his gulps for air, glaring down where Adam was smiling at him smugly. 

"Well you're an asshole, so I guess we're a perfect fit,"

"Hey, respect your fucking elders, wippersnapper"

Adam sat up. The expression on his face was unaccountably soft. He had that perplexed, half smile on his face; the one that always appeared on the rare occasions he had to work out what he wanted to say. "I've never dated anyone like you before,"

Tommy's eyebrows shot up. He might not know a lot about Adam's past, but he knows he has a type and that he's it. Only better dressed. 

Adam looked like he knew exactly what Tommy was thinking. "Fuck you, you know what I mean. You're tiny and fucking gorgeous, but...you're different inside. I don't know, not the personality type I go for,"

Tommy braced himself, pushed and managed to tip Adam onto his back; straddled him, "Change is good. You're worried about types? I was friggin' straight," though the way he rocked down kind of blew away that claim.

Adam snorted. He was doing that a lot tonight. "Yeah, okay. Me too,"

Tommy shrugged. "Never even thought about fucking a guy before. I like girls just fine,"

Adam looked vaguely disturbed and a lot turned on. "So change is good," he conceded, and  _that _ was the look Tommy loved to see. Lust, like no one had ever looked at him with before. Tommy's short and skinny and the musical equivalent of a math nerd, but Adam makes him feel beautiful.

Tommy hissed when two fingers slid into him, smooth and wet from the last time, almost-but-not-quite too much on the sensitive skin, but he bared his teeth in a smile. He loved the second time the best; the way everything was  _almost_ too much;  _almost_ too painful;  _almost_ too good. He reached blindly for the condoms, opened the packet and put it on Adam with hands that weren't quite steady. He pulled Adam's hand away, rose up...and let his head fall back as he sank down. Adam's hands crashed into his hips like they were pulled there by a magnet, squeezing, desperate and it made everything so much  _better_ . 

Tommy was no pain-slut, but he couldn't deny that the little hurts--Adam's rings digging into his skin, the strain in his thighs, the stubble burn, the pinch where he was biting his own bottom lip--turned him on and got him off. They weren't distracting exactly, more like amplifying. They all served to accentuate the way Adam felt inside of him. Then Adam shifted and Tommy was gone, bye-bye, couldn't string two thoughts together if he tried, because yeah the  _best _ thing about this whole gay sex thing? The prostate.

"Fuck, definitely the prostate," he babbled. Rocking up, back down, and this was absolutely his favorite position ever. More work but  _total payoff._

Adam made a sound half-way between a grunt and a laugh. "It's a beautiful thing," he agreed, thrusting and  _oh_ . Oh  _yeah_ . Then everything was a blur of  _fuck_ and  _yes_ and  _faster, harder, fuckpleaserightthere_ , and Adam jacking him, and then he was coming on a gasp, and it always surprised him how fast and hard the orgasm hit him when he was being fucked, the way it radiated from the inside out until even his fingers and toes were twitching with the aftershocks. He distantly heard Adam shout, and then he was collapsing, boneless. He felt Adam roll him off but he was too blissed out to even wince when Adam's cock slid out of him. He heard the plop where the condom probably missed the trash by a mile. "You throw like a fucking girl," he mumbled, already drifting off. 

"Shut up, I'm too tired to think of a good rebuttal," Adam slid under the sheets, and pulled and shoved until Tommy was under them too. He felt like a fucking teddy bear...but mostly because he refused to even think the word "spoon."

"And I'm too tired to make fun of you for using the word rebuttal in conversation," 

"You are so fucking cute," Adam grumbled. 

Tommy fell asleep smirking.


End file.
